


The Blooming of the Battlefield

by catabur



Category: Sigrogana Legends 2
Genre: F/F, joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 01:51:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4161084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catabur/pseuds/catabur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through pain, effort, and bloody murder does one girl finally realize who her true love is. A story about separation of worlds, plunging the once isolated, yet diverse, society of Cellsvich into a place of fear, loathing, and sloth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blooming of the Battlefield

A town at the coast of the land, one that has flourished generously ever since its early creation from before the war between the gods themselves, one titled 'Heaven's Contention'. A large, stone wall separates the civil town folk from the dangerous wilds in the forest that is almost a stone's throw away from the gates. The large, wooden gate, one stationed by only a few guards during the calm mornings and quiet nights, also has a figure that has grown too accustomed to her spot right by this impeding. The woman's attire is quite different from the metal armor worn by these guards, a dark-red trench coat that has the faintest smell of some sort of cleaning product and face, one adorned by striking red eyes and short, blond hair, being bare of any type of headgear. There, the entrance to such a glorious city, she stands, eyes always piercing through most disguises and mouth always curling into a smile as she interviews the immigrants and those who have lost their passports. 

The gate is now barren, save for the limbs of corpses and a skull rolling by every now and then. The dark patch of grass and dirt that once stood the interviewer is now empty. The town's empty square, one that used to be filled with conversations about the world and chats about personal lives, is now covered in layers of blood with the hissing of living skeletons keeping the dying plants and trees company. The pawn shop, one accustomed to all sorts of artifacts and weapons being handed down to the aloof man named Zeo, only has piles of burnt wood in its place. The inn, one that served as a club for a notable family in the city, now has its paintings, ones that critics from all six of the continents came to view, gone from the wooden walls and private rooms.

In the tavern, one called Pink's Pub after the famous bard who owns the establishment, is at least one living soul. Her white hair hangs just below her ears at most and clothing style, which resembles that of a skeleton's, at least allows a bit of protection from blades and arrows. There was also another figure there, hiding far in the back of the bar, one that occasionally uttered a phrase, one that held words of encouragement and, at the same time, a bit of pain, "You're gay."

The white-haired girl's dog-like ears twitch at the words shot at her, her golden eyes focusing solely on the other girl, and she crouches down to her to hold her tight. An attempt at conforming her, one that held the words, "You're gayer than me."


End file.
